Healthy Recipes to Include in Your Holiday Tradition

With Thanksgiving in three days, the holiday season is officially in full swing. In anticipation of our December 3 Twitter chat, #LBBCchat: Healthy Eating After a Breast Cancer Diagnosis, Kendall Scott, co-founder and health coach of The Kicking Kitchenis back on our blog to share three recipes to add to your holiday feast.

Image via Kendall Scott/The Kicking Kitchen.

Image via Kendall Scott/The Kicking Kitchen.

Savory Stuffed Acorn Squash

I love making stuffed squash: It fills my kitchen with sweet and savory scents and fills me up without feeling bloated and tired afterward. My mother-in-law also makes her own delicious version of stuffed squash. She gave me the idea to make them up ahead of time, wrapping each half of a stuffed squash in aluminum foil, baking some immediately to enjoy now and storing the rest in the fridge for up to three days. Then you just pop them in the oven and they’re ready to eat in an hour!

Yield: makes 4 stuffed squash halves

Ingredients:

1/2 cup brown rice

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/4 red onion, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 small zucchini, small chop

2 medium tomatoes, roughly chopped

5 crimini mushrooms, finely chopped

2 cups baby spinach, loosely packed

1 tablespoon paprika

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1/4 cup nutritional yeast

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

Dash of  pepper Continue reading

Hear My Voice: Living the Life of Clichés (That Are True)

LBBC Blog - Scott Cotlar%27s PhotoScott Cotlar writes about living by common clichés for people affected by metastatic breast cancer.

When I was first diagnosed with metastatic male breast cancer, I was not prepared to make any major changes in my life. There were just a few small lesions in my lungs. I was fully functional, working full-time as an attorney and had no interest in changing my daily routine.

That was about 6 years ago. Fast forward to today – lesions in my lung are “too numerous to count” according to the radiologist’s report; 5 bouts of gamma knife radiation of the brain for a total of 13 lesions treated; radiation to most of my spine; and now large metastatic lesions in my liver. Even with all of this, my good quality of life did not change until…a lesion on my tibia (a bone between the knee and the ankle) gave me an “elevated risk for fracture,” requiring that I wear a leg brace and walk with a cane.

The lesion to my tibia was the game changer. All of a sudden, my quality of life was deeply affected: the simple act of walking was no longer quite so simple. I felt an urgent need to “get my affairs in order.” As I write this blog I am preparing for chemotherapy, which I have done my best to avoid for the past 6 years, taking advantage of any hormonal or targeted therapy that I could get my hands on. I am finally starting to feel like a “real cancer patient.” Continue reading

Hear My Voice: The Hope of Many Summers After a Metastatic Triple-Negative Diagnosis

Annie GoodmanNew York journalist Annie Goodman discusses the realities of a metastatic triple-negative breast cancer diagnosis, and living her life with more hope and less fear.

 

Maybe it’s all in my head. I can’t have brain tumors. Maybe I’m just depressed and need psychiatric help.

After discovering a lump, I was diagnosed with stage IIB triple-negative breast cancer on February 29, 2012. I was 30 years old with no family history of cancer. I had a mastectomy, reconstruction, four rounds of Adriamycin and Cytoxan and 12 rounds of Abraxane chemotherapy. While in treatment, I found out I had the BRCA1 mutation. On November 30, 2012, I finished radiation and my doctor declared I was in remission.

I went back to normal life. I enjoyed having a healthy appetite again. My hair grew back. I went back to work full-time. Having cancer was no longer all I could think about. It started to become a memory, and I loved life as a survivor.

Due to the BRCA1 mutation, I had to go for ultrasounds of my ovaries every six months. My first screening was perfect. In November 2013, I went for my second ultrasound, and as soon as I got into work, my doctor’s office called: I needed to come in immediately. My right ovary was 11 cm. A normal ovary is 3 cm.  Continue reading

Hear My Voice: Facing the Emotional Roller Coaster of Metastatic Breast Cancer

MBC PyschoSocial Expert Julie Larson LCSWA diagnosis of stage IV breast cancer can lead to a roller coaster of emotions, which is normal. Julie Larson, LCSW, developed this list of tips and ideas to help smooth the ride. 

The weight in the room is palpable, thick with uncertainty and fear. Later I hear undeniable hope and the unmistakable clear tone of renewed perspective. Tears swell close to the surface during intimate conversations and the roar of laughter is a quick partner to humility and grace. This is the roller coaster of emotions that inevitably accompanies a cancer diagnosis, including metastatic breast cancer. Fear, worry and uncertainty woven together with hope, renewed perspective and gratitude. Experiencing the extreme shifts is often startling and unfamiliar to many affected by metastatic disease. Yet, most of those living with metastatic breast cancer (and their loved ones) have been affected by the ride.

Often it is helpful to know these emotional ups and downs are normal. You are not alone. After all, a metastatic breast cancer diagnosis is a life-changing experience. Treatment alone often demands changes in your daily routine, shifts in professional goals and physical losses which can be challenging to reconcile. “Why me” questions and the uncertainty about the future can be overwhelming.

Finding your way through the day to day is an exercise in self-awareness, acceptance, and frustration tolerance. And yet, those with metastatic disease all over the world are not only surviving but thriving as they live with cancer. The tips and ideas below may help smooth the ride a bit for you. Continue reading

Hear My Voice: From Cancer Mess to Organizational Success…

Katherine O'BrienKatherine O’Brien didn’t let being messy get in the way of organizing for metastatic breast cancer advocacy, awareness and support.

I have been living with a small volume of bone mets since 2009. In some respects, I think my metastatic breast cancer shares some of my character flaws. We know that cancer represents cellular chaos—all cancers start because abnormal cells grew out of control.

I can’t say that I am out of control, exactly, but I will confess to being a messy person. Organizational skills have never been my strong suit. I have purchased many filing systems, sorters, tote boxes, but inevitably I always default to my H&P ways: Heaps & Piles. Heaps of things represent unstable stacks—assorted mail pieces, notebooks, brochures, various business cards that spring up on my desk like toadstools after days of rain. Piles have fewer shape variations and more structural stability: I have piles of books on my coffee table, piles of CDs on an end table and, of course, piles of laundry.

If I were a neater person, I would probably be a far more efficient person. But at 48 years old, I am just happy to muddle along. I am glad my cancer—so far—seems to have this same attitude. It is too disorganized and lackadaisical to do too much. Let’s face it: I am the Oscar Madison of the metastatic world, too.

I thought of all of these things yesterday when I heard Joan Lunden actually say the words “metastatic breast cancer” on television as part of a story to kick off Breast Cancer Awareness Month. In prior years, such coverage focused almost exclusively on early-stage breast cancer. They never acknowledged either the 150,000 U.S, people living with metastatic breast cancer or the 40,000 U.S. people who die from it annually. Continue reading

It’s About You: Lynn Folkman’s Story

emailHeader760x1604_BlogResizeAt this year’s annual fall conference, Breast Cancer Today: Individual Treatments, Shared Experiences, we’re not just providing you with the unique information you seek; we’re offering you the chance to connect with others and learn that you’re not alone.  While being treated for breast cancer, Lynn Folkman went to her first-ever LBBC fall conference in 2009. She blogs about that day and the importance of creating the conference experience you want. Lucky for us, Lynn joined the team at Living Beyond Breast Cancer in 2012 as our Community Engagement Manager.

Lynn Folkman LBBC Fall ConferenceIt was fall 2009 – I had just completed chemotherapy, radiation therapy and was a few months into my year of taking trastuzumab (Herceptin) and I was exhausted. I found out about the LBBC Annual Fall Conference through one of my support groups and the thought of attending alone was too overwhelming for me, so I agreed to attend with a friend I met during treatment.

The conference that year was held at the Pennsylvania Convention Center. I was a bit nervous about attending, as I had previously worked at the Convention Center and still knew quite a few people there, and they did not know that I had breast cancer. As well, the tables were turned; I was a meeting planner and instead of producing the event, I was experiencing the conference as an attendee.

I was in an emotionally raw and vulnerable state. I was at the point in my treatment where I often wondered if or when I would ever feel like myself again. I was tired of hearing the comment, “You look really great!” I longed for a day where I could be invisible and no one would know that I had breast cancer. However, I was still mostly bald and there was no masking what I was currently experiencing. I was apprehensive about having to endure glances from people who knew me, which would be mixed with a combination of sympathy and trepidation.  They were used to the vivacious energetic Lynn, not the exhausted Lynn.  How could I possibly fake it when I did not even have the energy to do so?

A few things occurred that day which continue to deeply comfort my mind and spirit and reinforce the special place in my heart for the LBBC Fall Conference. Since it was my first time attending, I had no idea what to expect. The day began with the opening session, the speaker welcomed the group and then asked people how far out they were from the time of their diagnosis. When your year was called, you were instructed to raise your hand. One year and under, my hand went up. I don’t remember the exact breakdown, but it went something like this: 1-5 years, 5-10 years, 10-15 years, more than 15 years and so on.  What I do remember is being overwhelmed as I heard cheers and looked around the room and saw so many raised hands and proudly smiling faces.   Continue reading

It’s About You: Kate Garza’s Story

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KateGarza2 for 5 28Kate Garza is back with a new blog post for our fall conference blogging series, It’s About You. The yoga instructor, writer, wife and mother of three discusses the “breast cancer journey” concept, while discussing her own and her anticipation of Breast Cancer Today: Individual Treatments, Shared Experiences.

Everyone calls it a journey – the breast cancer journey. And if I weren’t so sick of that term, I would use it, too. It is descriptive to a point, and it allows other people to remember that you are not living the life you had in mind anymore. But this so-called “journey” is really more the life equivalent of being kidnapped, thrown into the trunk of a car and driven in the dark to an unknown location. That’s the image that flares in my mind anyway, when I hear “journey with breast cancer,” a junket with only sketchy clues about where you may end up. 

I was diagnosed with stage II invasive breast cancer at age 53, almost 2 years ago now, when my kids were 15, 16 and 17 years old. Life would have been complex enough with three kids moving up and out, but throw breast cancer on top of that project and I had more moving parts than I could track with sophisticated software. 

I had a fairly garden variety diagnosis of estrogen receptor-positive/HER2-negative breast cancer. I followed the standard treatment with lumpectomy, 8 cycles of chemo and 30 doses of radiation therapy. It was the most difficult health crisis I had run across in my life and treatment left me exhausted and brain-fried, but grateful that I traversed without complication. I finished a week before number one graduated from high school. After a month off for R&R, I began taking an aromatase inhibitor (AI), letrozole. 

After 3 months of difficult joint pain side effects, I switched to anastrozole. Again, the difficulties with pain and mobility arrived, but I stayed with the second medicine for 6 months until, completely frustrated and full of pain with every movement, I gave up. I was done. I couldn’t see the point of prolonging a life that felt this bad. Did I mention that I am a yoga instructor? I couldn’t move. Not even enough to practice the yoga that might help me feel better. And working, in my chosen profession, was out of the question. So by the time my second child graduated this past June, I was 2 months into my medication vacation and starting to feel much better. I could move again. Pain with walking and the sleepless nights were beginning to fade away.  Continue reading